


it echoes a spark

by TheMipstaz



Series: There's a Light in the Dark [4]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alpha Louis, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autumn, Breaking Up & Making Up, Hurt Niall, M/M, Minor Character Death, Trans Louis, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, flicker AU, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-18 20:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13107645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: It starts like most significant things in Niall’s life do: with the full moon.





	it echoes a spark

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/168843017215/autumn-angst-werewolfnouis-ft-translouis) Title from [Flicker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUaLnDL3f-M) because of course. You don't listen to and tear up over a song as many times as I did with "Flicker" and not end up writing an angsty fic about it.

It starts like most significant things in Niall’s life do: with the full moon.

Niall knows it isn’t unusual for Louis to get tetchy during the days leading up to the full moon. He gets antsy, fidgets more than usual, snaps if Niall asks too many questions. Some of it comes from the same itch that crawls under Niall’s own human skin, the wolf pacing and eager to surface as the moon grows in the sky. Some of it is anxiety and dysphoria about Louis’ impending transformation into a female wolf, the body he can’t change with hormones or binders or surgery.

Niall has had years of practice dealing with this Louis. He knows when to push Louis to eat dinner and when to cut his losses and let Louis sulk on the couch. He knows when Louis lashes out because he wants to be held and when he caves in on himself because he needs to be alone. He might not have ever finished that online Spanish course he signed up for, but Niall proudly considers himself fluent in Louis.

Until now.

This is the first time Louis turns his head away when Niall leans in for a goodbye kiss, Niall’s lips brushing cheek instead of lips. He blinks, stunned like he’s been slapped, too surprised and hurt to say anything at first. This is the first time Niall doesn’t know what to do, the first time his gut has been wrong about Louis.

By the time Niall does manage to open his mouth—to say what, he doesn’t know that either—Louis has already slammed the door shut.

* * *

“And then he just left.”

Harry nods thoughtfully, a pensive wrinkle sitting between his eyebrows. “Maybe it’ll just blow over. Give him until the full moon to calm down and figure everything out.”

Niall chews his thumb until Harry bats it away.

“The full moon,” Harry repeats firmly, nodding to himself. He wraps Niall’s hands with his own, chunky rings pressing reassuringly into Niall’s skin. “Give him some space. You know his wolf is a sore point. He’s just being a stroppy idiot. Let him ride it out.”

Niall takes a bracing breath. “Okay. Thanks, petal.”

Harry flashes his dimples, and Niall feels the ache in his chest ease just the slightest amount.

* * *

The full moon comes and goes.

Louis’ foul mood does not. And Niall is getting pretty fucking sick of it.

“Don’t,” Louis mutters when Niall reaches for the TV remote. His eyes never leave the telly. White light limns his expressionless face. He’s sat on the far side of the sofa from Niall, the empty cushions between them like a gaping chasm.

The thing is, Niall knows he’s supposed to be the patient one, the rational one, the grounded one. He’s supposed to temper Louis’ act-first-think-later attitude, to assuage Liam’s panicked and unfounded anxieties about being a shitty dad, to offer his own burger when Zayn’s so high he accidentally orders one with bacon, to remind Harry he can’t get too smashed on Thursday because he has 6AM bikram yoga the next day. But even Niall has his limits. After weeks of Louis’ short temper and cutting remarks with no end in sight, even Niall can only take so much.

“You’re not even watching this shit,” Niall bristles against his better judgement.

“So? You just want to change it to annoy me.” Louis retorts.

Niall shifts uncomfortably at being caught. He hates that he’s so transparent to Louis. Growing up with someone will do that, he supposes. But in the moment, the desire to provoke any kind of reaction from Louis was too tempting to resist after days of curt words and avoiding eye contact. Annoyance over a petty thing like a TV remote looked so appealing compared to the radio silence Niall has been slowly suffocating in.

But Niall refuses to let Louis have the satisfaction of knowing he was spot on. He scoffs, “Oh, get over yourself. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“Could’ve fooled me with the way you’ve been talking about me behind my back with every wolf in the Goddamn neighborhood, love.” At Niall’s grimace, Louis presses his advantage. “Yeah, I know about Harry and Bressie.”

“Only went to them because I know I won’t get any answers from you,” Niall snaps back after a moment to thank the Irish deities watching over him that Shawn’s name didn’t make the list. He feels a prickle of guilt at his own relief. But he shoves it down like he has every other ugly emotion that will only make the situation worse. Instead, Niall growls, “I can’t even get you to talk about what we should do for dinner, let alone about shit that actually matters.”

Louis purses his lips stubbornly and returns his gaze back to the screen. “Whatever. Just give me the damn remote.”  

“Or what?” Niall demands, careful control wavering. The hurt and ugliness bubbles in his gut and acidifies his words. “You’ll ignore me? Go upstairs? Not speak to me? Leave and get pissed and not come back until 3 in the fucking morning? Because guess what, Louis, you’ve already done all of that!”

Louis winces, but refuses to feel the sting of Niall’s words. He balls up the hurt spiking his stomach and fires it right back with twice as much force, “If it bothers you so much, then maybe I shouldn’t come back at all.” The words knock the wind out of Niall, and he sucks in a sharp breath in a futile attempt to ease the pain of his ribs collapsing with the force of an imploding star.

They’ve had fights before, big ones even. Niall was once so mad he slept on Harry’s couch for three days after he found out Louis had been considering bottom surgery. “You don’t get to be a selfish prick about something that affects me too!” Niall shouted, waving the doctor’s pamphlets he found in Louis’ bag.

Louis spat back, “It’s my fucking body, and I’m tired of everyone telling me how it should be. I’ll do what I fucking want with it.”

That fight pales in comparison to this one. Back then, even though they had been at each other’s throats, there had been no question that Niall was going to eventually come back from Harry’s. Amid the shouting matches and Niall storming out, they knew nothing foundational had changed. Louis still texted a terse _love you arsehole_ , Niall’s phone lighting up his face as he tossed and turned on Harry’s lumpy sofa.

Now, Niall swallows thickly. He clenches his sweating palms into fists. He blinks back the traitorous tears tugging at his eyes. He chokes out words he regrets even as they scrape his throat raw. “Maybe you should.”

Louis looks stricken for a split second, eyes wide and lips parted. He looks like he forgot how to breathe, or like someone just snuffed out the sun. Then fury overtakes the vulnerable expression on his face, closing it off and darkening his eyes into flinty slits. Niall almost doesn’t recognize him when he hisses, “If that’s what you want.” Louis lurches off the sofa and stalks stiffly towards the front door.

When the door slams shut, Niall doesn’t hear it from where he’s collapsed to the ground, a marionette with its strings cut. All the fight, the sparking anger has vanished with Louis—a raging inferno extinguished as easily as a candle. All Niall is left with is a yawning emptiness in his chest and murky confusion when he wonders how they got here.

His phone stays silent all night.

* * *

Louis knows Niall doesn’t deserve this. No one deserves to spend half their life looking after a bratty, uncontrollable twat like Louis. Least of all sweet Niall, who has stalwartly stuck to Louis side through his worst moments. Niall held Louis during the nights when he was still realizing he wanted to be a he. Niall scoured the woods for a week when Jay died and Louis lost control of his shift. He picked the girls up from school, brought over Maura’s famous beef stew, and helped Lottie tuck everyone in at night. He and Zayn held everyone together when Louis was too busy selfishly grieving to be a proper alpha to a pack that needed him.

Louis never forgets about people who help his family, especially when he’s head over heels for them.

And so, a few days after their fight—when he’s had time to cool off, call Liam in a panic, and subsequently bitch to Liam that he knows he needs to get his shit together, thank you very much—Louis skulks outside the front door to their house. He grips a bouquet of flowers too tightly, nervy and anxious. Then he apologetically loosens his grip on the daisies that he got when he realized the florist didn’t carry shamrocks. Too bad. He thinks Niall would’ve gotten a right laugh out of them. The daisies look a bit more wilted than he would like, but it’s too late now.

But when Louis finally plucks up the courage and swallows his pride to walk up to the front door, he pauses. His nose twitches, barely catching a weak whiff of Niall’s scent. The doorway should be saturated from Niall coming and going, from his shoulders brushing the frame, from his jacket hanging on the hook just inside.

“Niall?” Louis knocks a little more urgently than he might normally have considering he was slinking back with his tail between his legs. He listens hard, but he can’t hear any sort of movement inside. He can’t even hear a heartbeat. “Nialler?” He tries the doorknob.

It’s unlocked.

The door slowly creaks open. Louis’ heart beats faster. Niall never leaves the door unlocked; he always used to rag on Louis for it and insist just because they were wolves didn’t mean they had to live like actual wolves.

The daisies fall limply to the ground, forgotten as Louis surges forward. All senses alert, he sweeps the threshold, the kitchen, the living room, the bedrooms. Everything is empty, the scents stale. It’s been a day or two at least since Niall was here.

Pushing down the burgeoning panic constricting his lungs, Louis braces himself against the kitchen counter. He forces himself to think rationally. Niall probably just went to Harry’s again, or maybe Bressie’s. Yeah, that makes sense; Niall hates to sleep in their bed alone. Panic mitigated, he pulls out his phone.

“Louis!”

Louis rolls his eyes on principle at Harry’s cheerful voice, but immediately cuts to the chase. “Harold, is Niall staying at yours?”

“Are you two still fighting? Jesus, Louis, when are you two going to—”

“Answer the damn question,” snaps Louis with enough force to shut Harry up immediately. He would feel a bit bad if his nerves weren’t jittering so badly.

“No,” Harry says slowly. “Is he not at the house?”

Louis’ stomach swoops uncomfortably. “Is he—” Louis chews on his lip. “Do you know if he’s with Bressie? Or went back home?”

Harry hmmms thoughtfully. “Not that I know of, but I haven’t talked to Bressie for a while. It’s possible he—”

An ear-splitting howl cuts Harry off mid-sentence. Its low, mournful tone sets Louis’ teeth on edge and raises the hairs on the back of his neck. Louis starts moving towards the front door without thinking, drawn towards the sound outside. “Niall?” Louis doesn’t hear anything else, even when he strains his ears, but he’d know Niall’s howl anywhere. “Harry,” he cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder as he undoes the zip of his jeans, “call the pack. Something’s wrong.”

“Wait, Louis, was that Niall?” Harry frantically asks, noises crackling through the receiver like he’s scrambling around. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to go check it out.”

“Wait for the rest of us. You don’t know what’s out there.”

“I know that Niall’s out there. There’s no time, Harry,” Louis shouts at the phone he dropped on the ground to shrug off his shirt. “I have to go now.”

“There could be hunters,” Harry protests, “or Liam said he might’ve smelled a coven of witches hanging around.”

“Which means Niall needs me.”

“You’re being selfish!”

“Does it sound like I give a single fuck?”

Harry swallows. “The pack can’t lose its alpha, Louis.”

Louis pauses, one-track mind momentarily diverted from its constant chant of _Niall, Niall, Niall_. He knows Harry’s right, that he’s being reckless as always and putting everyone at risk. He tips his head back, closes his eyes, and runs a distraught hand through his hair. As alpha, he promised to devote himself to his pack—to care for, to guide, and to protect them in times of need. He promised his mum after her death forced the mantle onto his unsuspecting shoulders. If he was the leader she’d want him to be, he would call a pack meeting and come up with a solid plan before charging in.

But then he thinks about the pained howl he heard and knows, in this moment, Niall needs him more than the pack does. Praying he isn’t making the wrong choice, Louis opens his eyes. He murmurs, “Tell Zayn he’s in charge until you catch up to me.” He hopes Harry can hear the apology in his words. Louis was never meant to be alpha anyway.

Harry sighs, but knows he shouldn’t be surprised. “Be safe.”

Louis lets Harry’s words settle his racing heart as he ends the call. Then he gives over to the shift. His joints crackle and pop, ribs going tight. He scrunches his eyes against the hot prickle of pain of his bones refashioning themselves into a more lupine structure. His teeth ache as they lengthen into fangs. His skin goes taut as it accommodates new muscles wrapped around new bones.

Letting out a soft gasp, Louis drops to all fours and shakes out his thick coat. It sends dark fur flying everywhere, coating the carpet and sofa in a way that Louis knows will drive Niall nuts. Normally, Louis would despise the slight and lithe frame of the wolf, the paws that feel too small, the body that defies the life Louis has fought for. But now, Louis just focuses on the comforting thought of Niall soon back in the house to gripe over mundane things like furballs under the sofa. Relishing the wolf’s speed, unhindered by the muscle mass larger wolves like Liam and Bressie have, Louis bounds out the front door towards the woods.

* * *

Niall doesn’t know how long he’s been here, laying on the forest floor while fire slowly consumes his leg. He doesn’t even remember why he first slid into his wolf, retreating to the forest and leaving behind his human life for a bit. The moon wasn’t even halfway full yet, so it couldn’t be that. Something itched in the back of his mind, perhaps urgent, but not as urgent as Niall’s desire to pee on bushes and chase squirrels. Someone had to do it; those nut-loving motherfuckers had gotten too smug. They acted like they owned the damn place.

When the trap first clamped its metal jaws into his foot, Niall had fought tooth and nail. Panicked and in pain, he thrashed to get free. His struggles scuffed and gouged the earth around him until it had soaked in blood. Now, his usually pristine white fur feels heavy, matted with blood and dirt, but Niall can’t find it in him to care. Not when it’s hard enough just to suck in breath after breath of air so cold it needles his throat. Not when he can’t even keep his eyes open anymore. Not when he’s forgotten how to shift back.

He might’ve howled earlier, but now all he can think about is the fact the last thing he said to Louis was to leave and not come back. Niall whimpers even though it hurts his dry throat. He wonders if Louis will forgive him.

And then, like his sluggish mind conjured him, Louis is there. Niall hears a rustling and cracks open his eyes just enough to see a familiar black wolf burst through the undergrowth. The wolf throws back its head and howls a sharp, clear note—a signal to the pack. Niall feels his tail thump happily against the ground as his eyes flutter shut. He can’t feel his paw anymore, which he thinks should worry him for some reason. But how can he worry about anything when Louis is here, even after Niall told him not to come home?

When he manages to open his eyes again, Louis is human. Shaking, but gentle hands cradle Niall’s muzzle. Niall sighs in contentment at the comforting cadence of Louis’ voice. He can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but Niall nuzzles into his palms anyway. He keeps his pitiful whimpers to a minimum when Louis’ fingers comb through his knotted fur and jostle his bad leg.

“Oh, love.”

Niall whines in agreement. He hears and feels more than sees Louis fidgeting with the trap. Too tired to lift his head, Niall listens to Louis curse the blood slickening the metal contraption. He gasps when Louis’ hands slip and the jaws sink further into his flesh, sending a sharp bolt of pain through his slowly numbing limb.

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis rests an apologetic hand against Niall’s shallowly rising ribs.

Niall flicks his ear to accept the apology.

“Louis?”

Harry? Niall lifts his head. He sees Harry and the rest of the pack spill into the clearing.

Harry nearly trips in his haste to drop to his knees by Niall’s head. Long fingers rub at his silky ears as Harry whispers, “Oh, Nialler, what mess have you gotten yourself into?”

Niall huffs as indiginantly as he can.

Shawn and Liam shuffle in close, nosing and licking at his fur. Their tongues rasp soothingly against Niall’s feverish skin. Zayn stands watch a couple feet away, ears perked and eyes bright. Bressie’s scent wreaths comfortingly around Niall, his voice joining Louis’ low murmurs. “Hey, chief, don’t worry. We’re here.” 

Surrounded by his pack, Niall sighs and closes his eyes.

* * *

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” A sniff. “Prick.” A louder sniff. “Still love you, though.”

“Oi.” It takes a monumental effort for Niall to open his sleep-crusty eyes. He winces at his croaky voice, like he hasn’t used it in a hundred years. Or has chainsmoked for fifty. Shit, he really needs to get Zayn to quit before he sounds like this for the rest of his life. “You’re not allowed to talk shit when I’m bedridden. Aren’t you’re s’posed to cry and bring me flowers?” Niall nods groggily to himself. After a thoughtful pause, he adds, “I will also accept hot chocolate.”

“Done and done.” Louis jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the massive bouquet sitting in a vase on the table. “Well, not the coco, but that can be arranged.”

Niall narrows his eyes over the cup of water he finds on the bedside table. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Harry’s flowers don’t count.”

Louis huffs and takes Niall’s empty cup. “For your information, I did get you flowers. Sorry I lost track of them in the mad rush to save your bloody life.”

Niall winces. He doesn’t know if it’s from the twinge in his leg or Louis’ cutting tone. He averts his eyes. “Thanks, um, for that. I owe you one.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis groans. “Don’t say it like that.”

Niall bristles. “Like what?”

“Like you’re indebted to me forever.” Louis swallows and adds quietly, “Like I won’t be there in a heartbeat anytime you need me.”

“You once made Liam do your laundry for a month after you jump started his car,” Niall deflects, not quite ready to deal with the raw vulnerability in Louis’ voice.

“Yeah, but that’s because Payno’s a sucker,” Louis grins. “Remember when I told him I was a vegetarian? I’m a Goddamn werewolf, love. I would eat my steak raw if you didn’t think grilling affirmed your masculinity or sommat.”

Niall snorts, but loyally points out, “To be fair, Haz is about one gory documentary away from vegetarianism.” Louis squints his eyes suspiciously until Niall cracks and sheepishly admits, “Er, we may or may not have delved into the darker bits of Netflix a week ago. Harry also may or may not eat red meat next time we have a pack potluck.”

“I can’t believe you would let Harold pick what to watch. I thought we agreed never to do that again after the Objectophilia Fiasco of ‘09. He didn’t stop talking about that nutter woman married to the Eiffel Tower for a month.” Louis shakes his head fondly.

Niall shrugs. He picks at a loose thread on his blanket. “Not like you were there to remind me.”

Louis’ curving mouth goes slack. “I’m,” he coughs to hide the way his voice trembles. “I’m sorry about that. About being an arse. Well, I’m always an arse, you know that. But especially lately.” He looks away. “I’ve been feeling frustrated, but it wasn’t fair to take it out on you.”

“It wasn’t.” Niall lifts his chin. “But I’m sorry too. For…for telling you to leave.” Niall grimaces, gaze lowering to his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry for giving up. On you. On us.” It hurts to say aloud, to feel the words souring the air around them. But it hurts less than letting them fester in Niall’s throat, leaking poison down his esophagus.

“Well aren’t we just a perfect pair of twats?” Louis chuckles, weak humor not quite reaching his eyes.

“Reckon we are.” Niall glances up shyly. He extends one hand, palm up, lets it rest on the sheets.

He doesn’t reach for Loui’s hand, but Louis meets him halfway anyway like Niall had hoped he would. It feels sanguine when their fingers slot into place, familiar and warm. It feels like a promise for better days, a vow to trust in each other when everything threatens to tear apart. It feels like hope.


End file.
